Sharp Against the Chalkboard
by Ziven
Summary: [Post canon, TW] All she had left was a memento from a decision she shouldn't have had to make, clawing up her throat. -Kiddyshipping, Mokuba x Rebecca- done for the YGO fanfiction contest


Hello guys and gals! Today, I'm trying something very different with this story, and I would appreciate feedback about the emotions felt during the course of reading this piece. I won't turn down grammar tweaks and stuff though either, because this was a long piece and I know that there were things I missed.

There's some Rebecca/OC in here as well as the challenge pairing for the contest, Kiddyshipping (Mokuba x Rebecca)

Anyway, enjoy~!

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><p><strong>Sharp Against the Chalkboard<strong>

"Honey, what did you do at school today?" The little brunette at the table smiled, sitting as far upright as possible so that could look more "grown up". Her blue eyes, just sparkling with excitement, were focused on the woman who sat across the table from her. The man sitting between them on the table's edge gave the small girl his attention as well, managing a small smile.

" 'Becca!" she exclaimed happily. "We studied things that are awake at night in school. Uhm..."

"Nocturnal animals?" her father supplied.

"Yes. That's it!" she replied, slurping her noodles as she went along. Rebecca continued to smile at her as she went on, explaining that her teacher put on a small play with puppets about owls and foxes and even certain types of flowers that were only active during the evening. "Bright flowers, 'Becca! They glowed!" she exclaimed. She was such a darling.

The dinner passed quickly enough, and Rebecca took it upon herself to do the dishes, a soothing activity. After teaching through the day, to spend the evenings with her family was a small blessing. A tiny number of people in a single room, instead of the three hundred she taught on a daily basis. _Three._ Just three. The difference in atmosphere alone was energizing, and she cherished small things—like the dishes. Heidi was just about to be put to bed, and she knew that that Aaron would probably be tired as well—he taught two times as many students as she did, and a much more difficult subject. Of course, Rebecca wasn't complaining about having _Greek Mythology_ as a subject (it was better than _Differential Equations_), but any time when she didn't have to look at a room filled to the brim with students, or the stack of essays written by those students, was good.

She imagined it would have been worse had she decided to remain in the states. Aaron was here in Japan, after all, and he liked it here. And Heidi had been living here all this time—even if Rebecca had wanted to relocate to another University, she wouldn't allow herself to even make the suggestion. Her grandfather had gone all over the world, no longer a practicing archaeologist but instead a vital contact for many up-and-coming professors and researchers (although part of it, she had to admit, was because of her dueling tournaments). The moving, the new starts—it wasn't something that she wanted to do to another child; Heidi was her daughter despite the lack of blood between them.

If only she could get the child to stop calling her by her first name...

"Need some help?" she heard, and felt the press of a chin on her forehead, arms wrapping around her. She reclined her neck, looking up at Aaron, receiving the kiss on her forehead that she had known he would give her.

"I'm fine, darling," she nuzzled him happily, nose brushing against his underside of his skin—the brown stubble there was a little scratchy, but not too much. "But I could also use more love..." He pressed into her back, sniffing her hair, and tightened his grip. She blushed, blond curls tumbling from behind her ears. Another press: a kiss to the back of her neck, and then he was off to do some grading in his study. Rebecca was left unsettled, not unpleasantly, by her husband's sudden expression of affection. She brushed her hair behind her ear, noting that the curls were waning—she would have to touch them up in the morning.

Time seemed to soar with her upbeat mood, and she hummed through her students' weekly quizzes on their readings. She finished them early, with enough time to spare two mindless hours online before making her way to bed. Passing by Aaron's study, she could see that the light was still on, and he was still working. She frowned, body moving to poise itself right at the edge of the door, knuckles itching to knock.

"Hun, is that you?" He called, and Rebecca could see that he had not turned away from his desk. "I'll be to bed soon. I just have to finish these up."

"Alright."

"Love you."

Her identical reply tumbled from her lips like giggles, still floating from the intimate scene earlier in the kitchen. On the way to her room, she peeked in on Heidi—the girl was sound asleep, clutching her stuffed flamingo, hair ruffled by her tossing as she slept. Rebecca took the chance to closer her door on the way out, tip toeing away in the direction of her own room. It was childish, walking on tip toe, but it was something that she had always done when retreating from any place quietly, a habit she had picked up as a child. Heidi did it as well, particularly when she was round searching the pantry for cookies (luckily for Rebecca, she always put the sweets on the higher shelves, away from both children and most bugs in the area). The picture of the two of them scurrying together across the house brought a smile to her face as she entered her room. She loved that child so much.

It wasn't until her body found its place, sitting on the edge of the bed that she began to feel truly _tired_. The weight from walking around all day, from talking and teaching and scolding—in the cases of some of the students who had gone to see her during her Office Hours—needed to be dropped, and the soft folds her her comforter were the place to do it. She didn't want to fall asleep, though; she wanted to wait for Aaron. So she pulled her clothes off, dropping them onto the ground as she ran a shower for herself in the adjacent bathroom. It was a habit that he hated, her throwing her clothing everywhere, but she typically did all of the laundry, so she wondered why it bothered him. She did clean up after herself, after all.

Her heart skipped a beat when she heard the bedroom door open, and Rebecca froze. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she wondered for a brief moment if he would read her mind and join her. Should she wait in the shower for him? ...relations in the shower wasn't his thing, really, but perhaps she could get lucky. "Aaron?" she called, to let him know that it wasn't just the water running; she was there. Waiting.

"Not done yet, 'Becca." And a second click of the door as it shut behind him.

She frowned, the fluttering turning to clawing in her stomach and she stood there for several minutes to get a hold of her disappointment. The monsters dissolved into something heavy sliding down her throat, pulling her body down as it rested in her stomach, and it wasn't until she was blinking back tears that it occurred to her that her hair was getting wet. _Damn it._

Once in bed Rebecca couldn't help but repeatedly check her blackberry, waiting for a message saying that he was on his way, or that he was going to be up all night. He hadn't told her anything, and despite the _ready to play_ message she was giving off by wearing her favorite lavender negligee, her veins cried out for sleep. She longed for his touch on her skin and his kisses—there was a small whisper of air after each one, and she loved them—and his body, pressed flush against her like in the kitchen, with no silly clothes in the way. She wanted _that_.

Then, suddenly, he was shaking her. It was dark—she must have fallen asleep. "I almost crushed your phone there. Were you waiting for me?" his voice alone rekindled her desires; he was awake—_really_ awake—and _so was she._ He handed her the phone, which she sat on the bedside table quickly before trying to catch his eye. Aaron slipped into the covers beside her, and continued talking. "You're so sweet. It's bad for your back, though, sleeping upright like that. Come here." Rebecca settled in beside him, willing to wait just a little longer, to take things slowly. It would be alright; they could take their time, Aaron trying to sleep but being unable to resist the warm curve of her own body near his. She wanted him to feel her heat, her want, and wonder how she could have sat calmly across from him at dinner that evening. She wanted him to regret not pulling her into his study and taking her on the floor; for not bursting into the shower and jumping in so quickly that he had to removed his soaked socks from his feet, seconds before pressing her body against the tiled wall with his own.

So they settled in together, one of his arms on her hip, the other awkwardly wedged between them. She stared at him, blinking.

"What's wrong, love?" he cooed to her, and she frowned. He hadn't even noticed the satin lingerie. Her voice in the shower, the way she didn't want to let him go at the kitchen sink—all of it, useless.

That clawing rose inside of her again, and she said, once again trying not to cry, "You haven't noticed, have you?"

He smiled. "Noticed what?" No, he hadn't. There was no erection nuzzling her thigh, no meager attempts to hide it. Aaron was simply there, and she was wearing a lavender negligee. It suddenly all seemed absurd, her childish hope, her itching anticipation, her heart skipping.

Rebecca found it difficult to decide what to do in this case. If she spoke her mind they would end up fighting tonight, and then she wouldn't get any sleep until tomorrow during her break. But if she ignored him, she was sure that although it would avoid an altercation, it wouldn't do any good either because he wouldn't even realize what was going on.

She turned over, and he moved to accommodate her, and said while snatching the covers, "Nothing."

* * *

><p>"I just don't understand him," she complained. "Guys like sex, right? They're supposed to!"<p>

"No guy is the same," was the reply she got, the dark haired man leaning over the coffee shop table to make eye contact with her. "Maybe he just doesn't need to get off that much. I have friends like that. Rebecca—you know how I feel about this." He took a sip of his mocha, and it was only through seeing him that she remember doing the same. "If you have a problem with it you should do something about it. You've been married for three years."

"And I keep telling you, Mokuba, that's easy for you to say. You don't have a husband and a kid to think about. Every time I talk to Aaron about sex, we end up fighting." She shook her head. "I just wanted to vent about it, that's all."

"Fine," he purred. "How are the freshmen doing in your classes this semester? Not being too mean to them, are you?"

Rebecca could always count on him to know when it was time to change the subject. She was quite honored that he had been eager to befriend her once she began working at the University. All those years ago, dueling Yuugi Mutoh and seeing his friends cheer for him—part of that was why she had decided she was going to teach there. She had worked hard to learn Japanese (which she had _hated_ in the beginning—at least other languages tried to hide _some_ of the memorization from you. Kanji? Yuck.) and incorporate her japanese into her Classics degree. It was an odd combination, and she had suffered questions and stares and all sorts of things to get to Domino. _'Why do you want to know about the Greeks and Romans and the Japanese?' _Because she goddamn wanted to, that's why. But Domino had led to quite a few things she liked. Her husband, for one, Mokuba for another and occasionally she actually did get to duel with Yuugi, though it was all fun and games this time around.

But she forced herself out her thoughts about her choices, and answered Mokuba's question. "You and I both know I've been teaching the same throwaway class for almost a decade now. I just try to make it a bit interesting, is all."

"What's the side-theme this semester, again? I'm sorry but I keep forgetting."

"Looking up information on people named after the Greek Gods and finding out what sorts of things happened to them. They seem to find it a little bit fun so far, at least the ones who are listening."

"Sounds cool." Another sip.

There was still more to say about her situation with Aaron, but she tried her best to let that slide, to understand that Mokuba was probably tired of hearing about this for the millionth time. She sighed. "What about you?" she idly swirled her mixing spoon into her coffee, taking a small peek out of the window outside. Her heart felt like it was sinking.

"Well, all my students hate me, as they should. But, well, Accounting is a part of life and if they didn't want to learn it they should have decided to not to major in Business. Some of the girls like me, though—they recognize my name. It's the same thing every semester, really. It's the eternal conflict—" he did his best to impersonate a girl's voice. "_Do I hate my professor because his work is hard, or do I try to sleep with him for an A because he's kind of hot? And a Kaiba?_"

Rebecca giggled. "None of my students think _I'm _hot. I'm jealous."

"Oh, really?" he smirked. "You've been at Domino University for a few years, Rebecca. I think you need to check your Rate my Professor page again. I'm sure someone's said you've got a nice rack."

"Hey!"

"You do. _Just saying_, as the kids say these days."

Sometimes, she just couldn't help but marvel at his ease in conversation. How did he do it? How did he make his intentions clear without stating them implicitly, have his body language seem malleable and open to whatever the other person was asking for? Maybe the problem was her, or that she wasn't doing the same thing. She didn't have Mokuba's _charisma_. Perhaps that was the problem.

"You're thinking about him again," he sighed after a few moments of silence. "If I were you, I'd go to the Math department right now and make a fuss."

"You've got to be kidding me," she said. "When's your next class?"

"Not for a few hours," he replied. "Shall we?"

She took another sip of her coffee. "Mine is in an hour. Quick lunch?"

* * *

><p>Their bodies lay flush against each other, face to face, and all that Rebecca could think was, <em>This is what I want<em>. He laid a small kiss on her forehead, and Rebecca curled herself tighter, closer, and she couldn't keep the smile from her face. Another kiss, there, on her nose and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks—and then he kissed those, too. He took her mouth, lips locking with hers as though it were natural—in the same way that her husband's arm had naturally perched on her hip. It was a slow, agonizing embrace that somehow easily conveyed that he wanted her, still, even after. His hands gently touched her body, darting this way and that on her skin, never settling long enough to do more than make her shiver. Fingers traced her curves fleetingly, and in a sudden fit his arms slipped around them, hugging them to him as he rolled onto his back with her atop him. She couldn't help giggling, pushing her hands against his chest. She couldn't; she had class soon, she told him. Too soon—she had to leave...then, actually. She already knew she would be late. Lips pressed against each other for a moment longer, his erection against her belly, desire unconcealed—and Rebecca wished she could have stayed longer. She borrowed the shower to rinse herself off before reclaiming her clothes, her glasses, a feeling she had set down when she entered that she couldn't describe; and he slipped something on to walk her out to her car.

They had never quite got to the lunch part of the arrangement, she had to admit, and he promised her lunch on another day.

Of course, the clawing feeling waited until she pulled off to overtake her, and despite being only five minutes late for her class, it was nearly ten minutes later that she walked into the lecture hall—she couldn't let her students see that she'd been crying.

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><p>Aaron didn't like Mokuba, of course. It was a natural dislike, something about Business majors being made up of conspicuous tools and those who didn't have the balls to study "actual" statistical math. Nevermind that Aaron personally hated applied statistics.<p>

But he couldn't deny that he liked dueling. The three of them dueled each other often, and there were some days where she could get Yuugi or Jounouchi, or many more, to come and visit her at home on a Saturday—those days were the best. They would all take turns with each other, or do duels two at a time in the Kitchen and in the living room. Heidi would watch with avid interest—but she liked the art on the cards more than she liked the actual game. Rebecca could respect that; the girl was only seven after all, and she wasn't expecting Heidi to take to the game like she had. Yuugi and Anzu had absolutely fallen for the little angel, and Aaron would proudly list her school-related achievements before they began playing against one another, Anzu often keeping Heidi occupied.

They weren't any different at all—it was as though time had frozen for them, despite the fact that they had to pushing near 40. They were older than her, they all had very different pursuits—Anzu did ballet professionally, and toured! It was exciting to listen to—-but they were all friendly, all warm and welcoming and caring, the same way that they had been when they'd met. No wonder she had crushed so very hard on Yuugi at the time. She had never admitted to him that he had been the reason she returned to Domino after her Grandfather passed. There was nothing connecting her to the States anywhere near what she had gone through in the tournament with Yuugi and the others—it always seemed that way, didn't it? Mokuba had told her the same thing, once. That there was always something binding them together. Not quite, she thought—all that nonsense about Pharaohs and Egypt was something that she would never _quite_ understand, but she supposed she was linked enough. Enough for her to move to Japan and start over again, and enough for Yuugi and the others to treat her like a little sister that they were proud of.

Aaron defeated Mokuba twice that afternoon, and he looked pretty smug about it. But Mokuba shrugged it off, something Rebecca wasn't sure that she could have done, and dueled with Jounouchi afterward instead of challenging with a rematch. The other blond was still a really good duelist, she had noticed—a little hotheaded, sometimes, but still very good. And he seemed to get just a bit better after every visit. What did the man do for a living? The answer surprised her—he was a lawyer (and then, she'd thought that perhaps things were different after all). And ever since then, Rebecca had tried to imagine putting that unruly blond hair into and replacing the signature green jacket and jeans combo with a suit. She just couldn't see it.

She and Mokuba talked sometimes on the couch about lesson plans and things that were furthest from her mind at that moment. Mokuba was just as vocal and natural as ever, sometimes even making dirty jokes when Heidi was out on playdates with her friends or riding her bike outside. Even with her daughter gone, though, Aaron and Anzu always shushed him while Jounouchi and Honda and Otogi laughed at his humor. Rebecca wasn't sure how she felt about those jokes when they happened; in the beginning, she had scolded Mokuba about his lack of tact.

The group stayed only long enough for Aaron to become annoyed at Jounouchi's antics (especially when Honda or, on rare occasion, Otogi could skip out of work to join them). Sometimes it was a few duels and lunch; sometimes a lot of duels and dinner. Regardless, they never stayed the whole day or overnight—Aaron didn't know them well enough for that, despite admiring their skills. When her friends departed for the evening, Yuugi giving her the warm hug that he always did, her chest swelled again, near happy tears those times. Mokuba would give her a long, meaningful stare, but she would shake her head and continue with her goodbyes. She was going to be fine. Nevermind that she felt closer to her friends than her husband. Nevermind that he didn't want her.

That wasn't important.

* * *

><p>"Why would you ask me something like that?" Aaron was asking, eyebrows narrowed. "Are you seriously worried that I am?"<p>

"No, I—" was her automatic response. But she was. "We just don't..." she lowered her eyes away from him. "...we don't _do anything_ anymore."

"We do plenty," he said, moving to keep his hands busy, he snatched a small pile of clothes to "his" side of the bed, folding vigorously. Rebecca knew she'd have to re-fold them when he left.

She tried her best to insist. "We really don't, Aaron. We don't do much at all."

He stared at her as if she were crazy.

"I'm simply saying..." Rebecca said, trying to allay the anger that she could already see rising within him—at least he wouldn't be yelling. Heidi was down the hall and he was very adamant about her not hearing them 'debate'. "I'm just saying that I want _more_. I'm letting you know what I want."

"Just because I'm not pawing all over you in public and abusing you in our bedroom at night doesn't mean we don't do _anything_."

"It doesn't have to be every night!" she hissed at him; his exaggerations always crept underneath her skin. "Just more often."

Aaron exhaled a heavy breath, leaning over the bed. "Rebecca?"

"_What_?" she said, grumbling but preventing herself from growling.

"Are you a sex addict or something?" he asked with a mirthless laugh.

"Are you cheating on me or something?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"If you ask me that question one more time, I'm sleeping on the couch." Rebecca fell silent; she didn't want that. She wanted him as close to her as possible. As much as she could get. "Why would I cheat on you? I'm happy with you. I _love_ you. There's nothing wrong with you, and I have no problem with..._that_. I'm satisfied, if that's what you're worried about."

_That's not what I'm worried about_, she wanted to say. She shook her head instead. It was as though he wasn't listening. "I was talking about _me_." There a bit more benign.

"We've had this conversation before," he said. "I'm just not horny all the time, Rebecca. Maybe you just need to grow up and settle down. I'm not 20 anymore. Neither are you. And it's not my fault we hadn't met back then."

She almost gasped. Aaron and his _stupid_ exaggerations. "It's got nothing to do with age!" she shouted, and he looked at her pointedly.

"I love you, Rebecca, and I'm not cheating on you with anyone. There's no secret freak in me trying to get out behind your back. I just don't want a relationship based around sex—it's not something I have to eat and breathe. I'm attracted to you, even when I don't show it. Isn't that enough?"

Her eyes lowered themselves to the ground, and she hated herself for being unable to stop herself from trembling at his admission, to keep the blush away from her cheeks. Despite being unhappy with his answer she sighed, "_Yes_," her voice a whisper.

* * *

><p>She called his name again when she came, and although she knew that Mokuba must have heard it he said nothing—he kept going until he reached his climax, too, panting but otherwise silent. She would have blushed in embarrassment had her skin not already possessed a red glow, and instead she turned over on her side as Mokuba rolled off of her. He seemed to already know what was coming, and after taking a few moments to compose himself and catch his breath, he pulled her close and held her. Rebecca felt like a piece of glass, then, crying into his bare shoulder. Why couldn't she have this with her <em>husband<em>? She loved him so much—why couldn't he do this?

Mokuba's hands stroked her hair, fingers tangling in the blond strands, and she wished they were Aaron's hands, wished that it was his breath brushing across her ear, making her shiver; that she was in her own room, in the house that they'd bought together... and the tears kept flowing. And Mokuba, caught in the middle.

"I don't understand," she murmured, but it came out sounding as though someone had capture despair and tried to drown him.

"Mmm," Mokuba grunted. "What is it?" He kissed her forehead, and she imagined that small puff of air that came after her husband's kisses.

Rebecca sniffed, trying to dry her voice. "I don't get it," she said, but she was too cowardly to finish it with, _why do you do this to me? Doesn't it bother you that I don't really want you?_

He comforted her until she went to sleep.

* * *

><p>Rebecca loved taking Heidi out for ice cream. The little girl was very delightful, very polite, and she always made it a point to ask Rebecca about her day, even though there were a lot of things she wouldn't understand about the answer. But Heidi was very bright for her age, and Aaron had always enrolled her in schools for the gifted. It was as though she was looking at a mirrored version of herself, brown hair instead of blond and blue eyes blinking back at her.<p>

"Any homework for the weekend?" Rebecca asked, watching her slurp ice cream like any other child would. Silently, she handed Heidi a napkin.

Wiping the cream from her mouth, she smiled wide. "Daddy and I went to the carnival after school on...Wednesday!" She slurred 'Wednesday' as she pronounced every syllable, her child's voice breaking through. Rebecca knew Heidi was referring to her long day, where her latest class ended at nine in the evening, and Heidi didn't get to see her before going to bed.

That afternoon was filled with Heidi explaining all of the things that she'd seen at the carnival, from the animals to the people in costume to classmates that she managed to run into. The girl certainly had the gift of gab that her father did not, and the two shared hours together, conversing about school and some of her budding interests—Heidi was becoming interested in painting especially, she had told Rebecca, after she had an art class last year. She hadn't told her father because she wanted to make sure she knew what she wanted to do before getting into it. Then Heidi begged her to keep that secret, to wait until she had decided. Rebecca gave Heidi her word, and left her to it. She couldn't imagine being pressured to succeed—her grandfather had never been pushy or unsupportive. Aaron wasn't either of those things, but this wasn't the first time Heidi had asked her to conceal her interests. It wasn't until Aaron's first wife had stopped fighting for custody that he allowed his little girl to stop taking piano lessons.

When they returned home, around Heidi's bedtime, Aaron was very quick to usher Heidi to bed and almost as soon as she was tucked in, he started in—upset about a student he had that was bullshitting him on classwork and arguing with ridiculous excuses. Rebecca listened, taking off her clothing and changing for bed as as she did so. She knew what he was like when he was angry, gripping pillows and throwing them as he spoke even as he prepared for bed as well. He'd go pace while explaining and ranting some more, and then he would ask Rebecca her opinion. She agreed with him—not only to avoid arguing, but because the Professor was usually right and because Rebecca didn't know a thing about Differential Equations or how his class was structured point-wise.

Then he settled down, plopping into bed and Rebecca settled down beside him. She rolled over onto her side and curled her body around her comforter, gathering the warmth around her that she would need to sleep. Aaron apologized for being self centered after having the time to cool down, and asked her about her evening with Heidi. Rebecca told him that things had gone well as always, and he asked about work; she said things were fine there, too.

"...are you angry with me?" he asked after a moment.

Not about anything he'd just said, no. "No," she said. "I'm just tired."

"...alright then," he replied slowly. He rolled over so that their backs were facing each other. Now that he had let on to Rebecca that he believed she was upset at him, she was listening to him breathe, trying to gauge when he went to sleep. But he wouldn't. They had done this many times, and she knew that he was going to say something else. And he did. "Hey, hey," he called while turning over again, "are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Aaron. There's nothing to worry about." There was no way she could have said it to make him believe her—why try?

"I don't want to go to bed angry," he told her, and her eyes widened. Not because of the statement; her surprise was more attributed to the immediate spread of warmth, different from the comforter, as he reached down with one hand and cupped her backside, _squeezing_, his other arm throwing itself around her. He pulled her closer, and she melted despite herself, turning over to face him, and her lips were on his in an instant. She was on him, pushing and pressing, and he had to pull back forcibly. "Hey, not so rough there; you don't want to rip me to pieces, do you? Jeez..."

So she tried to be gentle, tried to be patient as she let him love her at his own pace. It was hard, and in the moment it felt much more difficult than waiting for her husband to be interested in having sex with her—Aaron was more calm, a romantic when he _did_ make love—and it was slow and painful. She just _wanted_ him, simple as that, and she had waited long enough. She didn't need the brushes along her skin, didn't need him to restrain her hands when she gripped him. She _needed_ him to fuck her, to show her that he wanted her no matter what and that he couldn't keep his hands away from her. The touches dragged on and the triumphant smirk that appeared on his face when he reached between her legs and noticed she was wet annoyed her. She'd been ready to take him since the very first moment, his hands on her backside and chest against her back. But she didn't complain—she'd wanted this so badly and she wasn't going to ruin it.

She had always worried whether she would make the pivotal mistake: say the wrong name, have the wrong picture in her head, feel the wrong person's impressions along her skin, but none of that was the case; not even once did Mokuba cross her mind as she topped her husband, rolling her hips as best as she could, doing everything he wanted, even the things that she hated: she called him what he wanted to be called, whispered the things he would want to hear and didn't argue a single position, even when he wanted to take her from behind, even when he decided to come on her chest without asking her. She only experienced one orgasm to his three, and she cherished every moment of it, body feeling euphoric just from the attention alone; the consideration, the way that he said he loved her as he came each time, the way his pants sounded in her ear and the way his fingers gripped her hips with a small hook in his fingers that made her shiver when he pressed hard enough.

Aaron went to sleep just after, nose buried in her hair, but Rebecca had to pull away to rinse herself off in the shower. She couldn't stand cum on her body for too long, and she liked the refreshing cold breeze across her body when she stepped out and back into the room. He had turned onto his stomach, but she still pulled his arm around her, his heat warming her. She exhaled happily, and thought she would never go to sleep. She didn't want to sleep—she would have to wake up, and that moment would be over. Rebecca decided to shake her husband lightly.

"Mm?" he groaned, and then he smiled, wrapping his arm around her again, and just as quickly he had dosed off again.

She shook him a second time. "What's wrong?" he said, sounding slightly annoyed. "Can't sleep?"

Rebecca shook her head and she asked, voice quiet, "...can we go again?"

Aaron scoffed at her, grinning. "I can only do so much, dear. I'm not an animal."

She didn't want that feeling of being full to leave her—didn't want that feeling of _love _to leave her. "Please?"

"I'm tired," he said, sounding suddenly exasperated, and she frowned. She felt his body jerk, as though he was going to turn over and away from her, but he didn't and simply settled a bit closer. Rebecca sighed softly, trying not to disturb him—her feeling of fullness crushed. The arm around her, secure and warm just moments ago, became a prison gate, trapping her against him where she couldn't express her disappointment without his hearing.

And there it was, the clawing feeling again, reminding her that she hadn't felt it at all since he had touched her, that very first moment; reminding her of what she could lose: a daughter, a husband, a friend, her lifestyle; the love of her life. Reminding her that she hadn't been the reason for tonight: his anger had been. And it reminded her, as her body pressed closer to her husband's in a way that it hadn't been in weeks, that it would almost another month before she felt an embrace like that again.

Rebecca wasn't strong enough to go that long without it.

{Fin}

* * *

><p>There were a lot of different motivations in this story, mostly the emotional descriptions here. I honestly wish that there was a bit more of Mokuba featured in this story, but there wasn't very much to do with him outside of what was there. The story is from Rebecca's perspective, so I thought it would be too obvious to use him just to summarize information about their relationship—I think that Rebecca's lack of thoughts allows the reader to see between the lines.<p>

Mokuba, while not present in the majority of the story, was still significant; I imagined him visually the same way I do in "Be Cool" (another story of mine featuring older!Mokuba), but he's much older here, over thirty. With his background with KaibaCorp, I would imagine that it wouldn't be that difficult for him to get into a job "teaching" business and management—I think that as a character, he would enjoy teaching it to others better suited for it than actually working for his older brother.

To be honest, I've used a loose piece of logic to push these two together here; they're within the same age range, and interact differently because of it, which I tried to show by having Yuugi and the gang show up.

But I'll end my author rant here, and let you all figure out the rest. Please, let me know what you think!


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